Once upon a time there were Heroes
by The Rebellious Observer
Summary: “Even angels fall, after all. In the end we’re all just the same. Even you. Because everybody hurts.” Draco’s descent into madness. Draco/Harry slash. Slightly disturbing.


Summary: "Even angels fall, after all. In the end we're all just the same. Even you. Because everybody hurts." Draco's descent into madness. Draco/Harry slash. Slightly disturbing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money off of it. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while so I can screw around with them a bit. Er…screw around with their psyches, I mean. Hehehe... ^_^; 

Warning: I make ample use of curse words in some sections of this fic (all for the sake of artistic integrity, I assure you #wink#), and, yes, there is slash (a homosexual relationship between two characters), so if that offends you or makes you uncomfortable in any way, perhaps you should turn back now. 

Author's Note: What is it with me and Psycho!Malfoy fics lately, anyway? It's rather unsettling to know you've had these angsty maniac plot bunnies bouncing around in your subconscious mind for God-knows-how-long until the time comes when they just spring up on you for no reason, but I feel compelled to share the results of my melodramatic muses with you anyway. I guess I'm just a dark creature at heart. #cackle inserted here# ^_~ 

Dedication: To Villain, who always has a nice thing to say (because she's awesome) and a delightful fondness for HP slash. ^_^ This one's for you, dearie! Erm…you _do_ like disturbing stuff, right? #crosses fingers#

Once upon a time, there were Heroes.

But they all died, and we were left with you.

Some people just don't know the difference.

But I do. I do. Don't I? Don't you?

Tell me, Potter: how does it feel to die?

Does it feel the way a scream feels tearing out of your throat?

Tell me, Potter: how does it feel to keep on living?

Is there a reason that you're here? Is there a reason that I'm here?

Tell me Potter: where did you get those pretty eyes?

Did you steal them? Did you make them? Do you sometimes forget?

Tell me, Potter: could I have them?

_No, no, Draco; no, no._

_You can't break this pretty toy too._

_He is too divine to crush…and careful not to snap his neck. He's fragile._

You have nice hair, Potter. Clean and crazy. Marvelous to pull. 

And did that hurt? Did you even notice?

What soft skin you have, Potter. Mind if I rip it?

Slice, dice, ooze; now you have stinging red tattoos all down your spine. And did that hurt?

I thought so. Your screaming is exquisite.

_Fuck!_

_Fuck, fuck, fuck…_

_What are you doing?_

_What are you doing?!_

_He was your lover—_

_How can you do this?_

_How can you—_

_No, no, Draco; no, no._

_You can't break this pretty toy too._

_You mustn't dull the little golden soldier going off to war…_

You should have been mine, Potter.

You should have been mine forever, but you went away.

And do you know what that felt like?

Do you know how that hurt?

It felt a lot like _this_, Potter.

Yeah, that's right—like dying. I bled too.

_Stop it stop it stop it please; don't hurt him anymore._

_He didn't know you felt like that_

_(You didn't know you felt like that),_

_And you weren't like this before;_

_You weren't like this before._

_You're a bastard—_

_Sick bastard!_

_I hope you die someday soon._

_You know your mother won't cry,_

_You know your father won't care,_

_You know some people will laugh at you._

_No, no, Draco; no, no._

_You can't break this pretty toy too._

_He means too much—isn't he perfect? And look at his lovely tears; they're all for you…_

I could stop this, you know. If I wanted to.

I could make your pain disappear.

See? I've stopped—and don't you feel relieved? No more pain now.

And would you do the same for me?

No. You would not (did not) do the same for me.

Hush little baby- 

_Hush little-_

_Hush-_

_Hush little-_

_Hush-_

_Hush-_

_Hush little baby, don't say a word…_

Don't say one fucking word, do you hear me?! 

_You're losing it; _

_You're losing it;_

_You're lost._

_And you'll never find your way back home;_

_Didn't you burn it?_

_Or was that a dream, like when you dreamt of holy water rain washing away your sins?_

_He smiles beautifully, doesn't he?_

_(Of course he does.)_

_You remember the way those white teeth felt on your flesh, don't you?_

_(Of course you do.)_

_You tasted blood on his mouth, and wasn't it fascinating? _

_And tell me—did you ever find out whose it was?_

_No, no, Draco; no, no._

_You can't break this pretty toy too._

_His heart is on his sleeve (his blood is on your lips)._

Yeah, yeah, I know you think I'm crazy.

(I know it I know it I know it.)

I can feel your fear.

Don't look at me like that, damn it—don't look at me like that!

You hurt me too, you know. 

(You did you did you did.)

And you wouldn't make it go away, Potter; you wouldn't make the pain just go away!

Don't tell me you didn't know you could—you knew you could. 

(You did you did you did.)

I begged the clouds to tell you to come back (and they told me that they would),

So don't lie to me and say you never knew the way I felt.

You knew the way I felt.

(You did you did you did.)

But everything's okay now, isn't it? Because you're mine, Potter. You're mine. Aren't you? 

_Aren't you_?

_No, no, Draco; no, no._

_You can't break this pretty toy too._

_You could tie him up with ribbons and mend the breaks with glue, but it just wouldn't be the same._

Tell me how it feels to hurt somebody, Harry.

Was it a rush? Did you blush? When did you plan to stop?

(Did you plan to stop?)

Show me where you'll break, pretty toy (my pretty boy all dressed in white).

I swear I'll never cross that point.

Tell me how it feels to hurt; to cry; to fall. Maybe I'll forgive you for all you've done. 

And you'd like that, wouldn't you?

I ask only for your interpretation of agony; that's not so much, is it? It helps to know you're real.

(And you're real, aren't you? _Aren't you_?)

I don't know why I even care. 

It doesn't matter if you're more than mortal (less than God, maybe. But who is that?).

Even angels fall, after all. In the end we're all just the same. Even you. Because everybody hurts.

The potential to suffer is intrinsic to life. 

And you can't make a miracle twice, can you?

_No, no, Draco; no, no._

_You can't break this pretty toy too._

_You can't—you can't—_

_No, no, Draco; no, no._

_You can't. Can you?_

Does your cross have splinters, Harry? 

Do you remember being struck—being fucked? 

Do you even know when your innocence first began to die?

And did that hurt? Did you even notice?

_No, no, Draco—_

_You can't—_

_Break—_

_Too _

Don't you remember the stone walls; the hot flesh?

Don't you recall my mouth on your mouth and sin on our thighs?

Don't you forget it, damn you! Don't you ever _fucking_ forget or regret or disdain what we had, do you hear me?!

Don't you regret _one single kiss_—and do you swear it? 

Those were the best times of my life. 

And I wake up screaming, and you tell me that it's safe. 

I'm safe. 

We're safe.

Everything is going to be okay, and am I alright?

And no, I'm not, but I will not tell you that,

Just like I never tell you what's in those dreams that make me 

Shake and shudder and grasp onto you as if I think you'll disappear.

And when I ask you if you'll ever leave, you tell me no, and I believe you,

Because you'd never lie to me, Harry; right?

We say our "I love you's" when we break for air.

And I wake up screaming, and you are screaming too, and the breath rattles in your throat.

And you struggle, and I could dance to the music of the chime-chime-chiming of the chains

If it didn't feel so much like sacrilege. A tear hangs off your chin, 

And you are fairer than the burning Mona Lisa that I saw last week, blackening.

You never give up; even your death is pure. But the Earth doesn't give a damn about that as it gobbles you up.

And I wake up screaming and I am dragged from my cell, and you watch while a Dementor tries to take your place,

But his lips don't taste the same, and I don't like the feel, and I reach for you but you only turn away.

And Hell is everything I thought it'd be.

And I wake up screaming, and a nurse from St. Mungo's tries to calm me down,

But I hate the world and it can't shut me up, and I tear into her hand with my teeth.

And later they learn just to leave me alone, and nobody can quite understand what I say as I sit

And I talk to my knobby knees and laced hands.

But I am waiting, and I am praying, and I am saying your name

(For it is my Hail Mary in a world of rosaries; it is the promise of something better).

And so I'll be a Holy Man until the day that you come back—

And you will come back, won't you, Harry? That's how these things work.

And though they tell me that I killed you—though they tell me that you died—I don't believe them. 

I will never believe them.

Once upon a time, there were Heroes.

But they all died, and we were left with you.

And you are so much greater than some Hero, Harry.

Because you're mine; you're precious; you're everything; you're you.

And you can't die, Harry. You can't die. Tell them what they're saying isn't true.

Tell them, Harry. Please—please! _Please_, Harry—tell them it isn't true!

I love you I love you I love you—and you're coming back for me, Harry, aren't you? 

_Aren't you_?


End file.
